Destiny Entwined
by Jaylee1
Summary: A collection of stories written for the st respect Shipwars challenge on livejournal for team Spork. Each chapter features an individual, contained, story. Prompts listed at the top of each story.
1. Chapter 1

Prompt #1: First Date ~1000 word requirement

* * *

It was a known fact across multiple universes (okay, so maybe only _two _universes, but since multiple, by definition, meant more than one, Jim wasn't going to argue semantics) that Jim and Spock played chess, Jim had confirmed it with older, other universe Spock and everything. That's just what they did. It was their code for 'your mind is the only one I find challenging enough to well, challenge, so bring it.'

So showing up at Spock's at a prescheduled time to play chess wasn't, in and of itself, anything new. They had done this a hundred times since their five year mission began. However, the low lights and goblets of what looked like Terran Merlot set out on the table were definitely new. The weird, hypnotic, 'insomnia curing' (a term Jim had coined when his grandmother had forced Bach or Debussy on him on multiple occasions throughout his youth) harp-sounding music was also a bit… _strange_, but whatever. Jim could beat Spock in any setting. Maybe Spock was just trying to throw Jim off his game by mixing things up atmospherically…

Ha, as if that would work. Jim would certainly show him, you couldn't beat Jim Kirk by trying to put him to sleep, no _sir_. He took his seat and claimed white and the first move.

However, despite Jim's determination to remain undeterred, he could admit that the way his First eyed him continually throughout the game, as if waiting for a reaction from Jim that he wasn't receiving, was a bit off-putting, _that_ he would readily admit, especially since it gave him a convenient excuse for the fact he was losing so spectacularly… an excuse far easier to concede than the usual_ 'I have a secret Spock-crush/fascination/obsession with and it's starting to get distracting enough to throw me off my game'_.

So what if that meant he was behaving like a chicken-shit infant (Bones' words from earlier that morning) by not owning up to his feelings like a man, at least it kept things even; at least it kept his emotion-repressing First from running to the hills from the weight of Jim's regard.

The wine, however, was still a bit of a mystery no matter how Jim puzzled over it. Vulcans couldn't metabolize alcohol, everyone knew that (and Jim had secretly always felt sorry for them there, and blamed a portion of their uptightness on the fact that they couldn't, biologically, get shitfaced) but to Jim it was a welcome distraction. The wine was tangier than he was used to, but fruity and fragrant and strong enough to take the edge off and cause him not to worry so much that he was in love with the unattainable, _and_ losing a game, which sucked under any circumstances.

In fact, the wine felt so nice that Jim was starting to feel about maybe capitalizing on Spock's good mood (okay, okay, if _'good mood'_ was indicated by the corners of his lips possibly being higher than a straight line by a millimeter, if that) by coming clean and professing his undying love, when the choking started, and the shortness of breath, followed by overwhelming dizziness, and then complete blackness.

Jim's last thought before losing consciousness was, 'goddamnit, we've found another allergy, and just when things were starting to get _good_'.

* * *

When Jim woke it was to the sound of his other best friend laughing hysterically, and a quick, albeit dizzying turn of the head confirmed that yes, Bones was laughing, the bastard, and if his red face was anything to go by, had been for quite some time.

Spock, however, evidenced rather the opposite reaction. There was no humor in his eyes, at all, but rather that somber look of concern that Spock always got whenever Jim landed himself in sickbay, only this time there was some slight guilt, too.

It was that, more than anything, that caused Jim's heart to clench. And that which prompted him to respond, even if he did rather feel like he'd just climbed a mountain or two. Or twenty.

"Don't," Jim rasped, his voice embarrassingly hoarse to his own ears, "it's not your was nice. Liked the change."

Translation: 'hey buddy, I don't blame you for this, I blame my fucked up genetic makeup' but he knew Spock would read him regardless, that was how they worked. Jim would say something light to lift the mood, Spock would decipher the deeper meaning behind Jim's words, always.

"It was meant to seduce," Spock replied, "since my repeated invitations for chess over the past ten point two months had not produced the desired results, I decided to be employ a more blatant maneuver to progress our relationship towards the intimacy I desired. I regret that the attempt failed so catastrophically."

And then Jim went into shock for the second time in so many hours, though, thankfully, not _anaphylactic _shock…

"You mean that whole thing was… you wanted…?" Jim stalled, unable to complete a sentence, particularly when Bones' laughter reached a volume non-conducive to in-depth conversation.

"The two of you are… such… idiots. Geniuses my ass!" the doctor gasped.

Whatever tension charged the air--whether born from the granting of Jim's greatest desire, or the sexual energy between him and his first that he now realized was reciprocal--was lightened by their friend's mirth.

With a shake of his head, Jim turned to his first, and said, "Want to try it again once Doctor Hyena lets me out of here, this time while I'm _aware_ of what the hell is going on?"

"Agreed." Spock nodded, the millimeter smile back in effect.

As first dates went, it was definitely Jim's most memorable. He just hoped all those to come would be breathtaking for quite another reason!

The End!


	2. Chapter 2

Prompt #2: Ain't No Sunshine when you're gone ~1000 word requirement

* * *

In the beginning I wanted to hate him. Well, maybe not, hate, exactly, but resent the hell out of him. Here was the guy who almost got me kicked out of the Academy, who didn't _listen_ when I tried to convey, as urgently as possible, that engaging Nero was the better idea. I mean, join the rest of the fleet, _really_? When the crazy Romulan had just blown up a planet and was insanely eager to blow up a few more? In what universe do we let overly obsessive maniacs get _away_ with that kind of shit? I don't care that we were outgunned. Did anyone tell Attila the Hun that _he_ was outgunned when he took on Rome -- with spears? Or the Zulu when they took on the musket wielding expansionists -- with spears? Or Chief Sitting Bull when he took on the rifle wielding General Custer -- with spears? No they did _not_. Obviously the damn Vulcan had never heard the phrase that a man defending his home was worth a thousand gigantic mining spaceships from a hundred years in the future, but I digress.

So yes, resentment should have been mine to own, particularly after the whole marooning thing. On an ice planet. With giant, man-eating lobsters (there might be something to the vegetarian thing, though I'd never admit it to Spock in, well, ever, because me? Totally not eating any crustaceans of any kind ever again). And yes, I still maintain that that particular action was thoroughly against regulation and will to my dying day. But the thing is, Spock has this way of getting under my skin. I know that sounds strange. I can't even explain it in my own head exactly, but there it is.

He's so… smart. Insanely smart. The only person I've ever met, save Bones, who didn't immediately have me thinking, _'I'm willing to bet the stupidity in your family dates back to a Homo Erectus who was idiot enough to fall into a tar pit'_ the way most people do. The rest of our crew doesn't immediately have me thinking unibrows and 'deer yummy, fire pretty' either, of course, but Spock is different.

He's the only person to really challenge me. I know, I know, that shouldn't be a turn on, right? I mean, I admit it's kind of twisted to be fascinated with someone because they can beat your ass at chess and question every decision you ever make, but the thing is, well, it keeps me on my toes. As Scotty would say, it's _exciting_.

I can't help it if every time we have a shore leave for any length of time, and Spock utilizes it to visit the Vulcan Colony, I'm a little insecure that he'll be tempted to just stay there and leave Starfleet. I mean, not totally irrational, right? Especially when I consider that he had to be _persuaded_ to join my crew against his first inclination to help establish the colony. I can't help this sneaky suspicion that Spock remains torn about his decision to this day, even after hundreds of after-hours chess games, my trying to be there for him during his period of 'romantic disassociation' from Uhura, and our taking fucking spears for each other on backwater planets. Yes, spears. Take that General Custer.

Am I confident that I can run my ship successfully without Spock there? Yes, I think I can. Do I _want_ to? No. Spock helps the _Enterprise_ run… better. Hell, he just makes everything better. So I think my anxiety is _entirely_ justified.

Returning to Earth for leave is a weird experience. Despite Earth being my home it really doesn't feel like it. A dozen counselors would probably attribute that to my crap childhood and some kind of dissociative disorder, but whatever. _Kaiidth_, as Spock would say, _what is, is_. The truth of the matter is that the _Enterprise_ feels more like a home after one year serving on her than Earth did the entire twenty-five years I lived on it.

Is it pathetic that I want this shore leave to be over already, barely a day in? Undoubtedly. I have it on good authority that these things are supposed to be restful, but I can't help but be anything but rest_less_. My rented apartment feels more like a cage, and chilly San Francisco with its bright lights and ocean breeze feels repressive. To be fair to good ol' San Fran, I think _anywhere_ would pale to the _Enterprise_. I may be a sad, sad little man, but at least I'm under no delusions about it.

I wonder how much of a home the _Enterprise_ would feel like without Spock? Not much. If Spock felt the intent of the Kobayashi Maru was to feel fear, then he would feel slightly vindicated for that whole 'cheating' thing if he saw me now… I don't want him to leave.

Unlike on the _Enterprise_, falling asleep here on Earth is difficult. I don't know why I even try. I have never been able to sleep while my brain buzzes over a hundred different possible scenarios and the counter-arguments I need to prepare in order to contradict Spock and avoid an unfavorable outcome.

Hearing the buzz of an incoming, prerecorded transmission manages to jolt me out of my reverie, and my anxiety increases exponentially. Who would be sending me messages in the middle of the night?

When I see the patiently exasperated face of my First, I feel my heart stop and all air escape my lungs.

"Jim, I will be returning to the Enterprise in two weeks time." Underscored in the blunt tone was a sincerity that Spock usually reserves for me and me alone. I love this about us. "At that time I expect to find you well rested. If I do not, I shall be severely disappointed. Jim, sleep. I will know when you are not."

I feel my heart start again and my breath return.

The End!


	3. Chapter 3

Prompt #3: Get Naked ~1000 word requirement

* * *

Jim jerked awake to the sensation of his blankets being removed, slowly, sensually sliding down his body. It was not unpleasant in any sense of the word, but the feral eyes glittering at him through the darkness, hinting at an unexplained madness and a physical strength that Jim was well aware surpassed his own, sent tendrils of fear up his spine.

So Spock had come.

He'd begun to think the guy had completely missed the significance of Jim entrusting him with the security code to his quarters. Oh, the act had been about trust, friendship and open communication, certainly, but there was more, so much more. A fascination; a drive; an unseen force that grasped Jim's attention and kept it focused on Spock in a way that was so completely out of his purview that it sometimes frightened him.

Yet he hadn't expected Spock to act on it. There had always been this transparent barrier between them; a barrier that, once crossed, would change them irrevocably.

Apparently Spock was feeling bold. Then again, it had been a week for erratic, unpredictable behavior from Spock. He'd been irritable, snappish, and so tightly strung that the tension buzzed around him like electric current. And now, _this._

Here, now, Jim felt like prey, and his gentle, controlled, Vulcan best friend -- he looked every inch the predator crouched over him in Jim's own bed.

Spock's grin was lost to the shadows, but somehow Jim could feel it. When the Vulcan's hot fingertips trailed down his naked chest, triggering goose bumps and a rush of blood to his head (actually, both heads), it left him dizzy and wanting. In his mind he heard a familiar voice tell him, _'We have always been leading up to this, you and I. Now is the time to act. You are mine, you were always meant to be mine, as I was meant to be yours. It is time and I will have you.'_

There was a small, intense battle in his mind. Part of him resented being told what to do, and hated being afraid, of anything, let alone of the man he secretly loved. But part of him found the whole thing rather… exciting. In the end the battle was won because truth, as always, eclipsed all.

In his heart he knew that Spock was right; they had always been leading to this, and--_fuck _his fear and his constant need for control--part of Jim did want to be , in fact, always wanted it; had been unconsciously looking for it amongst a sea of faces his whole life. And when his eyes had met a set of challenging brown ones at his Kobayashi Maru hearing, his soul had known it, even if it had taken his mind a while to catch up.

So he nodded and Spock growled, and that was the only warning he had before a firm, hard chest slammed down onto his own, causing his breath to escape him in one big gush.

Spock was naked; the satin soft feeling of his heated skin against Jim's bare chest made him instinctively arch up. With a quick show of Vulcan strength and the sound of cotton boxers tearing, Jim was naked as well.

The feeling of Spock's erection against his own, hot and throbbing, made Jim throw his head back in wanton abandon, his hands grabbing fistfuls of sheet at his sides, while his body moved, utterly driven, by suddenly ravaging need.

He bumped and strained against his First, all available blood flowing straight to his cock, tiny lights glittering across his closed eyelids as he pushed towards a crescendo of ecstasy.

Spock's body was hard, yet pliant, the perfect fit against his own -- the feeling beyond description -- and when he thrust and arched along with Jim, their pleasure mutually wanton, the sheer rightness of their actions locked in Jim's mind like the joining of two puzzle pieces.

When he felt a tell-tale wetness, a natural lubricant, seemingly seeping from Spock's penis, Jim thought that perhaps Vulcan men were indeed made for this, for claiming their counterparts in this way, whatever gender they might be.

'_T'hy'la,'_ he heard in his head, as if the word confirmed his contemplation. And in a strange way, and although he'd never heard the term before, it did. It fit. It was them and they were it, and it encompassed what they were doing and what they had yet to accomplish.

'_Ready?'_ Spock asked.

"Yes," Jim responded, with the last bit of coherency he had left, and then he felt three defined finger-tips against his temple, and the slide of a body moving down his own.

All at once Jim was speared in two ways, his mind ensnaredby Spock's and his ass pierced by hot flesh. The sting was easily soothed by the sheer, unhampered rapture of experiencing what Spock was feeling as he entered Jim in all ways, mind and body. Of what he felt like to Spock, tight and engulfing, silky and quivering. Their mutual need was intense, almost too much to take.

"God, Spock!" he said, either in his mind, or out loud, he couldn't really tell. What he could tell was that Spock had started to move, their bodies slapping against each other, each push hard and merciless, and Jim felt the combined sensation of their ecstasy hit him with such force it had him keening.

And when a wash of white filled his mind, and with a triumphant howl in his ears, he thought the word again, T'hy'la, and knew it to be beautiful.

When they caught their breath at last, Jim could practically hear the wheels in Spock's head turning, searching to voice an explanation as if one was actually needed between them.

"I apologize for the abruptness of my actions. Vulcans feel a biological imperative to mate with a compatible mind --"

Jim placed his fingers gently on Spock's lips. "Later, Spock. We have plenty of time."

And they did.

The End!


	4. Chapter 4

Prompt #5: Fairytale ~4000 word requirement (I didn't have an entry for round #4 as I was writing "Chemical Compatibility" at the time. ;-))

* * *

It was Frank's poker night; a miserable day of the week that never boded well for Jim. Not that any day really boded well for him. 'Boding well' was a phenomenon that seemed to just skip over the first fourteen years of his life.

Riverside sucked. Frank sucked. Life sucked, and that pretty much encompassed it all.

It was a sad testament to his life that Jim had planned out his rebuttal to Frank's predictable onslaught on the walk home from school that day. Sure enough, Frank started in on him the moment he walked in the door, as per their predictable, painful routine.

"Listen here, you little shit, while your mother is away, I am in charge, and while I am in charge, you'll do what I tell you! You want to eat tonight? Well, go do the chores I listed out for you and sent to your PADD." The angry tone registered, but, as if Frank were any of the adults from that 20th century Peanuts holovid he and Sam used to watch over and over as children, all Jim really heard was 'blah, blah, blah, blahblahblah, blah'.

He didn't need to _hear_ Frank to get the gist of what was being said. It was old hat by now. Part of Jim couldn't help but wonder if Frank lived for this moment every day, if this was how Frank got his jollies during his mother's absence.

It had reached the point where he could just about mouth Frank's part for him.

Jim often felt like Cinderella. Well, if Cinderella had a dick and a penchant for sarcastic repartee, that is. Sad, cliché fairy tale of a broken home? Check. Plucky young thing determined to persevere despite vapid repression? Check. Jim _was _a bit short on ugly stepsisters, though that wasn't exactly something to complain about, right?

Just dealing with Frank was bad enough, he didn't need to tempt fate by commenting on the missing players in the drama that was his life. The fact of the matter was that he was the young, handsome, entirely misunderstood innocent… well, maybe not _innocent_, exactly, but that was only because he refused to take Frank's shit without the world knowing damn well how he felt about it beforehand; what did it matter in the grand scheme of things if his innocence came with a little justifiable attitude?

Frank utterly deserved it, both for being the world's largest dickwad, and for turning Jim into a virtual servant while his mother served off-world just because he knew he could get away with it… They both knew Jim's mother couldn't be bothered to check up on them or really care all that much what Frank did or how he ruled the house. As long as Jim was alive and breathing when she came home, and sporting no visible signs of Frank-inflicted violence, she counted the addition of Frank in their lives as a win.

Really, Frank fit the 'wicked-stepmother' role to a sickening degree. The only thing missing was the corset, and crooked nose. Which Jim would totally pay good money to see. In fact, a digital touch-up of his mother's and Frank's wedding photo wouldn't go amiss…

Jim had to give Frank points for perseverance, though; Frank was trying his damnedest to break Jim's spirit the way he had Sam's. It was just a shame that he wouldn't succeed. Because, unlike his brother, Jim was no runaway. Cinderella (and every other wishy-washy, utterly spineless heroine from countless fairy tales… sad, that, and kind of insulting to womankind) had accepted her lot in life with the cheery, resigned disposition of a heroine-in-distress, singing to animals and other such maudlin (and frankly, slightly disturbing) bullshit, Jim was not going to take that kind of blatant power trip lying down. Not anymore. Jim had reached a boiling point. He was sick and tired of being pushed around.

_This _Cinderella was busting heads and taking names.

"I'm sorry, Frank, but I'm afraid I cannot paint the house, fix the fence and do every other damn thing around here, just because you can't be bothered. I am a fourteen-year-old student, you see, and we have to do things like homework. Foreign concept for you, I know, what was the last grade you completed? Fifth? But for the rest of us in possession of a brain larger than a _gnat's_, it's what we do." Frank spluttered. Jim smiled sweetly. "But let me put it in terms you'll understand: me no do homework, teacher will investigate. Teacher investigates, I must inform her that I was too busy being treated as a slave in my own home to partake of such a silly thing as actively participating in my education. And starving children is actually a form of child abuse - just a fun fact for ya there, Frankie."

And that was for Cinderella, Snow White, and every other repressed individual who'd had the misfortune, throughout history or literature, to put up with a Frank.

And the nice puce shade that Frank turned made the entire exchange more than worth it. When Jim did doctor that photo, he'd make sure to include the magenta coloring, it suited the bastard.

"Abuse? You don't know the half of it! I could _show_ you abuse! And don't give me that shit about homework. I never see you doing homework! The only reason you bring it up now is to try and weasel out of earning your keep around here."

Jim glared at Frank defiantly.

"Maybe I don't do it because I'm too busy playing the role of your indentured and starved servant." The truth of the matter was he didn't really need the time at home after school; he usually did his homework at midday break. Not like any of his assignments were all that challenging or required more than five minutes and half of his attention. But Frank didn't need to know that. The things Frank didn't know already far outweighed what he did by a long stretch… a stretch the size of the Pacific Ocean. One more omission wasn't going to do him any damage.

At that Frank did laugh, a malicious and evil sounding laugh so over-the-top, so vividly recalling the stereotypical villain from a really, really badly acted horror holovid that Jim couldn't help but roll his eyes… twice.

And then a third time, just for effect, since being over-dramatic was kinda the order of the day.

"Kid, you think you have it so bad. You don't know just how bad it can get. So let me spell it out for you in terms _you'll_ understand. You go do the chores I listed for you, and you do them with a song in your heart, or you don't get fed, and you get grounded, indefinitely and probably till the end of time, and then, when your mother gets home, I lay out for her, in intricate detail, just what a little shit her youngest son really is."

Jim couldn't help the fourth eye roll, and he didn't think anyone would blame him for it, because really, someone forgot to tell Frank that when threatening someone, the threats should be, well, actually threatening.

He was well past the point of caring what his mother thought, hadn't cared since Sam had run away and she had done nothing to rectify their living situation. Besides, that was all shit about "when your mother gets home". If Frank really wanted her to know something, he'd just _call_ her. Nor did he care to eat whatever gloop Frank would come up with that evening, as the man was a hopeless cook and had busted the kitchen replicator in a fit of pique last week (which Jim may or may not have provoked him to). Jim could easily just eat extra at school the next day. And the grounding? Well, the tree by Jim's window had been his best-friend since he was five.

How obtuse could one grown man get, really? Frank was an embarrassment to the species.

But Jim would do the chores, and purposely _not_ sing while doing them, if for no other reason than he needed something to occupy his body while his mind plotted his escape out of this hell-hole once and for all.

* * *

Jim's fairy godmother, one Christopher Pike, entered Jim's life with a bang but a distinct lack of fairy dust. There _were_ stars dancing before Jim's eyes at the time, but that probably had more to do with the combination of repeated blows to the head and alcohol than it did Pike's abrupt arrival on the scene.

Here Jim was, innocently wallowing in the misfortune of getting pummeled by behemoths whose mothers probably nursed them on steroids rather than breast milk and pondering the predictability of humankind and how it was his misfortune to be among them, when this insanely idealistic (and, Jim suspected, marginally insane) man waltzed into his life and started yammering about destiny, reaching one's potential, and fucking _Starfleet_.

Now, Jim had a long history of rolling his eyes through well-meant but ultimately futile career speeches from councilors who looked at his ridiculously high assessment test scores with stars in their eyes… and then actually met him and realized that he was, perhaps, a mite troubled. Just a tad, mind. Growing up with an asshole for a stepfather, with a mother constantly away on missions out among the stars, while living in the shadow of a heroically dead father, had sure helped him grow up the sort who didn't take all that well to being patted on the head and told he could _become something _if he only worked hard and dreamed big enough.

But Pike had the foresight to approach this well-worn monologue of 'you could do so much better, Jim' in a uniquely effective way… he _dared_ Jim to do better.

Never let it be said that James Kirk passed on a dare.

There was more to it than that of course.

Pike had looked him in the eyes and told him he'd be a captain. A fucking Captain, man. He was dreaming on Jim's behalf, and he was dreaming _big_. And the faith in those eyes had been undeniable and unshakable. But Pike didn't have to know that.

It was actually a pretty profound experience, though Jim would never admit it aloud. He wouldn't want to give the man a big head or anything, it would make his recruitment speeches even _more_ over-the-top zealous. But from the get-go Pike had believed in him, had shown unwavering conviction, and all within minutes of first making Jim's acquaintance.

Jim had been used to anger, doubt, resentment and disappointment, but belief was a whole new ball game.

He felt obligated to Pike now, determined to live up to that faith.

The man was a fucking wizard at manipulation, using psychological warfare to bend the world to his will, and while Jim totally saw through him, and knew full well what Pike was doing, (he wasn't an idiot, thank you, hell, he admired the guy's skill and audacity when doing it), he also recognized that Pike was doing it for Jim's benefit.

Kind of weird to be looked after like that. Kind of new.

Pike mightn't have a magic wand, but he knew people, knew how to open doors and make things happen. Like picking up slightly bloodied repeat offenders off dusty bar-room floors and having them all dolled up in cadet reds the next _day_, no application forms, no interview shit, no three referees' letters required.

And Jim couldn't seem to shake the guy once Pikey had latched on… (Okay, so he might not exactly _want _to shake him, but, again, totally not admitting that part out loud. He kind of, well, _liked_ that someone was looking out for him. It was awesome.)

Throughout Jim's three years at the Academy, Captain Pike continued to check up on him periodically. On the surface Jim pretended to be annoyed about it-after all, who wanted their recently adopted father (or slightly neurotic uncle) looking over their shoulder? A kid needed to leave the nest and all that, needed to feel free to live his life and make bad decisions involving sex, booze, inadvisable hair-style choices, etc. on his own.

But since Jim had never had any sort of _sane_ supervision growing up, he was actually secretly eating it up. The whole youth/mentor thing was a bit of a kick.

And when Pike handed over the Enterprise to him with nothing but pride in his eyes, Jim couldn't help but follow their 'relieved of duty' spiel with a tailor-made spiel of his own.

"Thank you, fairy godmother."

Pike grinned, eyes dancing with mirth, and clasped Jim's hand and squeezed it.

"Just take care of the pumpkin, kid, she's one hell of a ship. I'm trusting her in your hands. If she comes back scratched, beat or totaled in any way, it's coming out of your allowance."

Jim's ringing laughter marked the end of the ceremony.

* * *

Despite a life that oddly mirrored Cinderella's, one thing Jim was certain he did not need was a Prince Charming, or a Princess Charming, or even a royal version of the occasional barn animal that Uhura had once accused him of coveting.

One-night stands and his right hand were company enough, thank you kindly, and the great thing about his right hand was that it didn't want to discuss feelings with him, didn't expect flowers and chocolates on Valentine's Day and he didn't have to feel accountable to it… well, other than keeping the body it was attached to alive and kicking and all that.

So perhaps that was why when his soulmate walked into his life, Jim didn't notice. He noticed the part where said person had him up on charges of academic dishonesty in front of half of Starfleet Academy. He noticed the part where he wanted to smack Spock for being an evil bastard in serious need of an imagination transplant (and had had the urge to put Bones right on that). He noticed the part where no one seemed to be on his side here. Not even his own fucking fairy godfather/neurotic uncle/whatever the fuck Pike was. But the part where this dude with the pointy ears was his fucking soulmate? Not so much.

He wasn't trying to _cheat _on the Kobayashi Maru, he was trying to beat the test, there was a difference. Cheats did things covertly and tried to conceal their tracks and get away with it, whereas innovative geniuses tried to solve problems in new, invigorating and unorthodox ways, like say, reprogramming the parameters of the test, and were pretty blatant about it.

Clearly 'innovative' and 'unorthodox', were things somewhat removed from the uptight Vulcan's purview.

Jim would like to think a 'soulmate' of his would be a little more understanding of this distinction. So when meeting older Spock (who was, for all intents and purposes, a pretty cool guy, one actually in possession of an imagination… clearly not a universal constant for all Spocks across the space time continuum) and being told that he and Spock were destined for great love, great life and great adventure, his disbelief on the matter was entirely justifiable.

Cinderella may have been a disgustingly cheery, no-back-bone possessing, animal-conversing virgin, but at least her prince had been marginally agreeable (in that equally lacking a back-bone, wimpy kind of way… the guy was looking for a wife, by shoe size, after a single meeting under false pretenses, come _on_). It was just Jim's luck that his own prince-substitute would be someone who had a stick the size of the Academy stuck up his otherwise mighty fine butt.

Fate was clearly playing a prank on him. One that wasn't very funny (okay, okay, maybe it was _marginally_ funny, but only because Jim didn't think Spock knew how to laugh or to recognize a joke, so the thought of Spock being party to one was kind of hilarious).

But the thing about Spock was that he kind of grew on Jim over time without Jim being entirely aware there had been any growing going on. First impressions really were a great evil of the universe, Jim believed this firmly, because behind that rigid Vulcan control lay a passionate nature, one wise and smart and savvy and kind.

It started with little things, noticing that Spock was always first to cover a shift for an ill or injured crew member, or the way he guarded Jim so fiercely on away missions, even before they liked each other.

_"Spock, man, I know you take your position as First Officer seriously, but taking a stun for me, really above and beyond, you know?"_

_"No, I do not know. And as it is highly doubtful I will be aware of being 'above and beyond' in the future, I feel it prudent to warn you of this premeditated ignorance now on the off chance you may wish to conserve the oxygen it would take to remind me."_

_"Right, so that was humor, right? You're being sarcastic with me? I'm totally on to you, man. Hey, did you know that the position of your eyebrows totally gives you away?"_

Or the way Spock's mind seemed to run nonstop, never pausing, never stagnant. Jim could practically hear the wheels of Spock's brain turning whenever he was near.

_"An interesting move."_

_"Jealous?"_

_"Not as such, no. Hand over the bishop if you will?"_

_"Damn. You suck. I mean, you don't suck, which is why I'm getting my ass kicked here. But you suck because I have a reputation as the messiah of the chess board. The handing of my ego back to me on a platter is ruining my zone."_

_"I see. Far be it from me to ruin the reputation of the chess messiah. I shall endeavor to lose with greater frequency."_

_"Smartass."_

_Spock's eyebrow rose._

Underneath all that scary control lay a passion that rivaled anything Jim had ever felt. His first glimpse of it had been Spock choking him, and that had been… unfortunate... but it had manifested itself in a small number of milder, less lethal displays since, and it intrigued Jim beyond the telling of it. He couldn't help but look at Spock, during away missions, or while dealing with uptight Admirals, and wonder _'how are you really processing this? What is going on in that head of yours? Would you share your insight with me, please?'_

And Spock's strength, both mental and physical, was unparalleled. It was _fascinating_. Jim knew it had to take the Vulcan tremendous willpower just to hold back from utilizing that greater strength to gain the upper hand whenever the two of them worked-out together, or to keep from lording that greater mental discipline over the rest of them during operational meetings, but Spock didn't. He was so _restrained_.

Restraint was not exactly Jim Kirk's middle name. Kind of a foreign concept to him, actually. Which only made it all the more admirable, in his humble opinion.

He came to realize that being pretty damn cool really _was_ a universal constant indigenous to Spocks across the space time continuum. Or at least the two he knew. Who would have thought? The shoe fit, and all that rot.

So maybe the whole 'Prince Charming' thing wasn't actually that bad a fate. Actually, winding up as Spock's soulmate was pretty fortuitous, truth be told; a pretty good deal compared to the wake of a crummy childhood spent in solitude. Jim liked - okay, he fucking _loved _- this whole deal. Who'd have thought? Years of flying solo, of only depending on himself, had done weird things to his psychology, he admitted this, but Spock? Spock proved that the universe could get _something_ right.

Who knew a fucking fairy tale could be so damn prophetic?

* * *

If people had told Jim at 22, when he had first joined Starfleet, that he would one day be bonded and thus married to Vulcan's only approximation of a prince, he would have laughed, long and hard, in their faces. And had he had been channeling Bones at the time, that laughter would have been accompanied by some vigorous cussing.

The thing was, it wasn't the bonding itself that he found the most ironic. That had been a no-brainer. He loved Spock, plain and simple. There had been a time when Jim would have never imagined himself married or even marriage_able_, now he couldn't imagine himself married to anyone _else_.

He and Spock had been through the quintessential relationship drama, had experienced the progression from hated rivals to bosom buddies (although if Jim had harbored a little crush on Spock throughout the duration of that friendship, he wasn't admitting it to anyone, especially not Bones… though he suspected Bones already knew as he had been smirking more often than usual these days) to ardent, passionate lovers. And when this magical, mystical, absolutely wonderful quirk of biological imperative entitled Pon Farr stumbled upon them, they had become even more than that.

For the record? Jim totally loved Pon Farr a whole heaping hell of a lot. It was like a fantastic blessing bestowed upon him from all the gods and goddesses above.

So no, the marriage itself was not that much of a shock. It had been meant to be; even in the most cynical recesses of his heart, Jim knew this to be true.

No, the shocker came a few days later, when the congratulatory gifts and communiqués started catching up with them, on the Enterprise, in deep space, via space stations and transports.

Apparently Spock knew one, or two, or three… thousand people.

"Uh, Spock, please don't take this the wrong way, but we've received more transmissions of well wishes lately than there are Vulcans left in the galaxy, and I've always kind of had the impression that you didn't care for a sizable portion of those remaining alive, something about childhood tormentors and giving the Vulcan equivalent of fuck you to the board of the VSA… and no, don't deny it, I saw it firsthand in your head. You can't lie to me, buddy, you had angry thoughts, admit it. Anyway, my point is, how in the world do you know this many people and how do they know we're bonded? I haven't even told my mother yet!"

The sparkle in Spock's eyes gave away his amusement, no matter that his lips hadn't twitched towards anything resembling the grin that would have given a lesser man away.

"You are aware, yes, that my father is an ambassador, and that I, as a youth, was introduced to a sizable number of acquaintances through his profession? And that my family is directly descended from Surak, one of the oldest and most established lines within Vulcan society, even in the wake of Vulcan's passing, thus making our bonding a matter of public record?"

Good God, he really had married a prince. He really _was_ Cinderella, only with a dick and a penchant for sarcastic repartee. That would, thankfully, never change.

Oh, and backbone, he had that in spades. Franks of the galaxy had better beware.

But really, what did it matter whether life, and that his life in particular, imitated art?

So his life was a fairy tale, albeit with more space pollen, completely-off-their-rocker foes, and exploding planets than any one tale had any right to, but the thing was, it was his tale, his and Spock's. This was _their_ story being lived. He and Spock would write the rest of it as they journeyed, together.

Jim flashed a large grin at his t'hy'la and held out his fingers for a Vulcan kiss.

Happily-ever-after had nothing on them.

The End!


	5. Chapter 5

Co-written with livejournal user and dear friend daphnie_1 (an "Amok Time" AU)

Prompt #6: Love- "So dear do I love him that with him all deaths I could endure." ~4000 - 8000 word requirement

* * *

"For the love of God, either get your goddamn Vulcan under control or I am going to sedate him!"

Jim grins as he joins the doc at a table in the near-empty mess hall. "Morning to you as well, Bones."

McCoy returns his smile with a scowl. Yeah, someone's cheerful as always. "Don't give me that, kid, and don't think I won't," McCoy tells him, waving the hypospray he's carrying to make his point.

Typical morning on the Enterprise. Gotta love it, and goddamn he does. It's freaking _awesome_.

He's not going to lie: it's so freaking funny to see McCoy and Spock fight. It's, like, the highlight of his day. "What'd he do?" Jim asks, "Steal your coffee? It'd explain the whole bitchy gig you got going." Jim knows from the academy you don't want to talk to Bones before he's had his coffee. It's not a pretty sight.

McCoy snorts. "Your logical, unemotional first officer just threatened to break my neck. I'm trying not to take it personally but that's pretty tough."

Yeah, okay, he'll admit that's not exactly typical Spock behavior. Which he knows is pretty much understatement of the freaking year, but well, he hadn't really thought much of it till now, because Spock is always weird. Though, if he thinks about it, Spock _has_ been weirder than usual just recently.

"Yeah he's been...weird. What's with that?"

McCoy shrugs. "Fuck if I know. Just get a grip on him before he kills someone, will ya?"

Jim's known him long enough that he can roughly translate that from Bones-speak into Standard as: 'make sure the damn Vulcan is okay.'

He has to knock three times before Spock lets him in. Spock looks...right, okay, Spock looks like freaking hell. He looks like he's barely eaten or slept in a week. Jim hasn't seen him in a few days, he's been holed up in his quarters meditating. But he did _not_ look like death warmed up the last time Jim saw him.

"How may I assist you, Captain?" The words sound normal but the tone does not.

"Okay, Spock, let's hear it," Jim tells him, not even bothering with the small talk. Just how Spock likes it, right? Direct.

Spock stops pacing and turns to look at Jim, his eyes dark. "I… I require shore-leave at the new Vulcan colony."

Jim just blinks. "You've never taken shore-leave. Ever. I've asked you to come with me every… single… time and you said no."

Jim has always hated the fact Spock never seems to leave the ship when they're in dock. He gets that the leisure facilities on some of the planets – or the local culture – might not gell with Spock's idea of a good time – whatever the fuck that is – but there must be _something_ Spock can do to entertain himself dirtside.

Jim doesn't take it personally. Except he kinda does.

Spock tenses further and Jim has to quash the urge to run because for fuck's sake this is _Spock_.

"I am working under the assumption that I have sufficient shore-leave allowance accumulated?"

Jim nods, "Yeah, Spock, you do. But, hell..." And he shrugs. "Is something up? Because if I'm being honest, you look like hell."

Not to mention you're acting like someone shoved a stick up your ass, but it's probably a good idea not to flag that up.

Spock's still pacing, a quiet, unflustered pattern across the floor that Jim can't quite figure. It somehow reminds him of a lion he saw in a zoo once. What's worrying Jim more than anything, though, is the fact that Spock's hand is freaking shaking. He seriously doesn't like that.

Spock shakes his head. "I am..." A pause, and Jim hates it when he does that because he knows Spock is about to feed him a lie. Well, as close to a lie as Vulcans ever get. "I am perfectly capable of performing my duties, Captain."

Yeah, he may be able to do that but he's not up for much else.

"Yeah, you won't be in a couple of days."

Spock snaps round and there's a split second where Jim thinks Spock is going to take a swing at him. The incident on the bridge is suddenly brought back in vivid Technicolor, and fuck his picture-perfect memory to hell. Jim laughs gently because he knows he can't do anything else and tries not to think about how easy it would be for Spock to crush him.

"You will _cease_ prying into my affairs and answer my request."

Jim shakes his head, "Not until you tell me what the fuck this is about." A quick grin. "And you can consider that an order." He says the last word lightly, like it's a joke, but it's _not_.

Spock takes three steps before he answers. His voice is almost normal. Pity the pacing screws with any effect of true normality.

"It has to do with biology," Spock tells him.

Well, _that's_ about as helpful as a new recruit during sims training.

"What?"

"Biology," Spock repeats, like Jim has gone fucking insane.

"Yeah, I heard you Spock. What _kind_ of biology?

"Vulcan biology. "

Jim shakes his head. "Okay, okay _stop_. We're both going to quit using the word biology now 'cause my head's starting to hurt. You mean, like, sex?"

Spock tilts his head, and Jim suddenly feels a little uncomfortable at having all that intense energy focused on him. Frankly, it's creeping him out a little. "Did you never wonder how Vulcans choose their mates, Captain?"

Yeah, he has wondered. More than he probably should have, but this is so not the time and place to bring that particular piece of information up. Jim shrugs. "I'm figuring it's done pretty logically."

There's a noise that Jim could almost swear was a laugh. "No. No. It is not. We shield it with ritual and customs shrouded in antiquity. You have no conception, no understanding of what that is like. It strips our minds from us. It brings a madness which rips away our veneer of civilization. It is the Pon Farr."

Jim nods. "Uh huh, you're gonna have to break that down for me."

"I must return home and choose a mate or I will die."

Jim, for a second, thinks he's going to burst out laughing because it's all so freaking insane. Spock is going to die 'cause he can't get laid? You've just got to love Vulcan biology. You really, seriously, do. You've also got to love the Vulcans themselves. If anyone can make sex more complicated than it needs to be, it's them.

"So, what's the big deal?"

Spock doesn't answer, and turns away from him for a second. When he does speak his voice is calm, steady. "There is no, as you say, 'big deal.' I will simply return to the new Vulcan colony."

If it's so not a big deal Jim would very much like to know why that sounded like a death sentence. 'Simply return to the Vulcan colony' like it's the easiest thing in the world. It should be. In _theory_ it should be but Jim gets that it's not. What he doesn't get is why.

"Whatever you say, Spock."

* * *

Spock goes to New Vulcan on his own. Spock had asked him to come along and Jim had said yes. However, the new head-what's-her-face on Vulcan had told him to fuck off. Well, okay, she hadn't used those _exact_ words, but it's all in the tone.

He maybe shouldn't snapped back 'this isn't even your planet' when she'd asked if their ceremonies were for outworlders now. He definitely shouldn't have done it in Vulcan. Chalk it up to 'Stuff You Learn On The Job 101.' But he'd been – and okay, he'll admit it – worried.

He's never seen a Vulcan flip quite so quickly before--even Spock had taken a fair bit of provocation before he let rip--so it'd actually been kinda cool. So he'd been sent up to the Enterprise quick as you like.

So here he is now. Waiting. And waiting.

And not thinking about the fact that during his super-short vacation to Vulcan: the Colonial Experience he found out his best friend was already married. It's the sort of thing you tend to tell people right? It has a habit of cropping up in conversation. Seriously, how hard is it to say: "Oh, by the way, Kirk? I'm married to a scary-intense Vulcan lady with weird eyebrows."

How can that be too much to ask? _How_?

"McCoy to the bridge," his friend's voice chimes from the comm.

Jim grins to himself and snaps back, "Jim here. What's up?"

There's a noise that's almost a sigh. "Your first officer is back and crazy as all hell."

So that thing he said about being Captain of the Enterprise and how it was pretty much the most awesome thing ever? Sometimes it's seriously, _seriously_, not.

* * *

"She turned you down, didn't she?" is the first thing he says to Spock when he breaks into his quarters, and he's pretty sure it's only through Spock's sheer strength of will that he isn't getting the crap beat out of him just now.

"She was within her rights to do so," Spock tells him, somewhere in the shadows to his left. Jim doesn't know if he should be glad or not that he can't see Spock's face right now.

Jim nods, 'cause yeah, there's absolutely no doubting Spock's right on that. "Wanna tell me why she changed her mind?"

"I do _not_."

Jim doesn't know how he got this stupid idea into his head. Yeah, he _is_ a genius but that doesn't mean he's always – you know – smart.

Jim grins. "Well, aren't you lucky I'm here! If what's her face won't put out, I will."

His words are met with total silence, and he's not going to lie, it's kinda eerie. Yeah, this might not exactly have been a good move.

"It's what you need, though, isn't it?" Jim tells him, but he's cut off before he's even finished the sentence.

"_No_. Not with you. Your blood does not burn."

Jim rolls his eyes dramatically, "Look, Spock, for a genius you're being a fucking idiot about this. It's just sex."

And it _is_. It's not like he hasn't been here before. Certainly for worse fucking reasons than, oh he doesn't know, saving his best friend's life.

"_No_."

Okay, so, Spock has decided to be a fucking idiot._ Nice_. You can always count on Spock to make everything more freaking difficult and complicated than it has to be. Jim calls it the 'Spock effect'.

"Look, I know you don't want me in particular but..."

And Spock fucking loses it.

His normally calm and serene first officer lashes out from nowhere, and Jim is pinned to the nearest wall. His heart's freaking racing and, hell, Spock can probably feel it.

He takes a deep breath, doesn't lash out, even though every instinct in him is telling him to fucking run.

"Mister Spock? Either make this worth my while or get the fuck off me."

Spock's eyes narrow and Jim thinks: _oh_.

Spock lets him go, backs off, a look in his eyes that Jim can't quite place. "I did not..." Spock tells him, his voice normal, "I did not intend to harm you."

That look in Spock's eyes? He's placed it now.

"Why did she turn you down, Spock?"

Spock draws in a breath. "T'pring rejected me on grounds that allowed her immediate dismissal of the bond without challenge. She...she claims that I have been linked with another. She claims that I am 'used' and that she will not have me. It is her right."

Jim blinks. "Does she mean the thing between you and Uhura? She's picked a pretty weird time to get jealous about that."

Considering they haven't been together in nearly six months.

"T'pring was not referring to my relationship with Nyota."

Jim shrugs, "Well, who's she talking about then?"

There's a moment of silence, and yeah, Jim has definitely hit on the million credit question.

"She was referring to you, Captain."

Jim supposes he should be shocked. Spock's probably expecting him to scream 'what?!' at the top of his lungs and start ranting and raving about Vulcans and their secrets, and 'what mambo-jumbo have you done to my head, anyway' and 'gee, I'm just so stunned by this, give me a moment to pull my head together, here' but the truth is, well, this is just too fucking precious.

So for lack of knowing just how to respond to the whole thing, and almost completely involuntarily on his part, he laughs.

"Then what is the fucking problem? Correct me if I'm mistaken, but this kinda works in our favor, yeah? We're bonded. That's great, and hey, it also happens to be hella convenient. Take me to bed already, Spock. Let's go."

It probably counts as irony that _Spock_ is the stunned one, and Jim allows himself a second to enjoy the effect. Because Spock with a befuddled expression on his face? Completely priceless.

"You are not surprised that a bond has formed between us? One strong enough to usurp the bond that was established in childhood between T'Pring and myself?" Spock's eyes narrow. "Why are you not surprised?"

The thing is, Jim's never intended to admit it, never. Not even if someone held a blasted phaser to his head and said 'spill your secrets or die'. But, well, _Spock_ has a laser at his head, in a metaphorical sense, since Pon Farr is pretty much equivalent to a lethal weapon, and he'll die if nothing is done about it, and that's something Jim isn't going to let happen.

It isn't _allowed_, not on his watch. Spock is Spock. The universe, and Jim, needed him. Crazy, that he'd lose his head over someone who had not only hated him when they first met, but who also desperately tried to repress all of his emotions, but yeah, there it is.

"Because I've loved you for a while now, moron. And because I'm not an idiot. Hello, genius level IQ here, remember? Do you think it's normal that we're always able to find each other, no matter which one of us is captured on some backwater planet, or which one of us is bleeding out somewhere in a ditch because mini dudes with spears and face paints were protecting their planet's dilithium deposits? Or how 'bout the fact that we seem to get each other?"

Ridiculous, really, how they were wasting precious time, but, well, whatever it took.

"Or how 'bout the fact, that when I had your older counterpart in my head on Delta Vega, there was all this excitement, and happiness, and love vibes going on, aimed at me… me?!.... someone you-you hated at the time. Come on, Spock. This is kind of a no brainer, really. The man did try awfully hard to ensure that we ended up on the Enterprise together, manipulating both of us to achieve that end. I figured his Jim must have been pretty damn important to him for him to go to such lengths. I mean, he wasn't even subtle about it. 'I have been and always shall be your friend'…. Give me some credit here."

Jim sees understanding flash across Spock's features and feels his heart leap in response. If they weren't so pressed for time he'd probably cringe over how blatantly he's putting himself out there, but the urgency of their situation doesn't allow for nerves or insecurity or even fear. He'd deal with that crap later, schedule a nervous breakdown complete with a prescription of whiskey with Bones a few days from now, where he could toast off his bachelor years and marvel how he ended up finding a soulmate and getting bonded when there had been a time he'd been convinced there was no one in this galaxy or beyond that would ever be this important to him. Proof, once again, how fate loved to fuck with him.

"If you suspected a bond to have formed between us, why did you never discuss it with me?"

Logical question, that. Gotta hand it to Spock, even at death's door, he doesn't mince words.

"Because I figured you had it all figured out, too, but that you didn't want it. I mean, you stayed with Uhura until six months ago. Plus I know you met your counterpart. I figured you saw how lonely and kind of broken he seemed, because, well, obviously I'm dead where he comes from. True, modern medicine has done wonders for prolonging a human's lifespan, but there is no way I could live_ that_ long, not like a Vulcan can. I figured you didn't want to risk turning into him. Becoming isolated like that. He was willing to go by himself to inject red matter into a dying star on the brink of implosion… kinda figured the guy had a death wish and I wondered if you had maybe attributed a part of that to my counterpart leaving him all alone."

Right, so, he'd never actually wanted to voice that out loud either, the implication that he didn't measure up to other-universe Jim, that he wasn't worth it in his own Spock's eyes, as it fell strictly under the category of 'Jim's insecurities he doesn't voice and pretends don't exist'. But a direct question deserved a direct answer. It's not like he'd be able to hide it from Spock if Spock were determined to find out, anyway. Whatever this bond thing was, Jim suspected it came with a Kirk to half-Vulcan dictionary.

"You doubt that your feelings are returned? You doubt that I want you the way my counterpart wanted his Captain? Jim, if I had had any foreknowledge that my feelings for you were reciprocated, I would not have asked you to take me to New Vulcan, I would have taken you forthwith."

So they're both idiots. They hawed and hummed and pretended their feelings didn't exist because neither one of them, really, likes to deal with all this emotional crap nor wanted to rock the boat where their hearts're involved… Not really surprising, either. God, this entire day is turning out to be the day of not surprised. For all that they come from different cultures, they're so similar in so many ways. Figured they'd both be completely messed up in the head, too. Just one more commonality.

Spock's eyes assess him, taking him in, unblinking and unfaltering.

"You understand that we're bonded, but do you fully comprehend what that entails? This is for life, Jim. Our katras will always be connected, even in death. The type of bond that exists between us is too powerful to permit any less. Spontaneous bonds like ours are not common; they mean that our minds are highly compatible."

"Spock, not too long ago I met this Vulcan on an ice planet, who, within seconds of meeting him, looked at me like I had hung the moon and convinced me that he was in my corner and always would be. Fuck yeah, I want that."

It also isn't a surprise that Spock then reaches out and drags him into a kiss.

* * *

Jim leans over the sink and splashes his face with cold water, almost, but not quite, ready to go back out to Spock's quarters and let him do what he needed to do to alleviate the Pon Farr.

In retrospect maybe he shouldn't have asked for those extra five minutes before they had sex to prep himself alone in the bathroom… five minutes was just long enough for the reality of the situation to start to sink in.

This whole being nervous before sex thing is new. And the trembling of his limbs and his rapid, shallow breathing are both alarming and jarring as he slips on his Starfleet-issued robe and turns to exit.

He isn't used to being frightened of sex. Sex! God. Sex hasn't scared him since he was fifteen and unbuttoning Suzy Crochett's blouse in the backseat of a hovercraft.

Not that he likes to toot his own horn or anything, but he is Jim Kirk, his reputation at the academy was legendary, although, admittedly, only partially earned. That rumor involving the professor of xenobiology, an andorian and Gary Mitchell? Totally untrue. Still, there _was_ some truth to the nickname of James 'Tomcat' Kirk, even though now, given present circumstances, his reputation is a little embarrassing, especially when Spock could easily find those memories in his mind, through this bond of theirs, if he so desired. Not the best baggage to bring into a marriage, mystical bond, mental compatible partnership, whatever.

Yes, he's had countless partners, fact, but he'd never really been with anyone he was in love with before, let alone _bonded_ to in a very deep and spiritual way. So in this he can cut himself some slack; any nervousness about giving himself over to a Vulcan lover deep in the throes of a biological mating drive can easily be excused.

And anyone who wouldn't excuse him for it (Jim just possibly has one or two past lovers still cherishing a wee bit of a grudge) is a total moron.

In fact, at this particular moment he feels more like a virgin about to give it up on a sacrificial alter… which isn't really a bad analogy, now that he thinks about it. Everything about this whole thing, from dealing with Spock's mood swings, to discovering about Pon Farr, to journeying to New Vulcan and finding out that he and Spock were bonded, so 'hey, let's go through with this whole mate-for-life-thing', had been pretty primal thus far, this was just the climax of it, pun intended.

No situation he'd _ever_ been in could compare to this madness. If Bones only knew of Jim's connection to Spock's Pon Farr, he'd probably be laughing his ass off and making not-so-subtle references to karmic retribution.

Here he was, an admitted control freak, because yeah, he owned that little personality quirk of his, willingly walking into a situation where he'd have almost no control over anything. Spock is twice as strong as he is, and completely high on Vulcan hormones that made him both erratic and dangerous… and also more beautiful than Jim had ever seen him. In any other situation, Jim would have found Spock's state an utter turn-on, though what that says about him he doesn't really want to examine too closely.

The insanity that has always made up Jim's life has outdone itself this time. Really.

Well, Jim thinks as he squares his shoulders, if there's one thing that can be said about him, it's that he does not do things by halves. Spock is his. He's longed for the right to say that for forever. He fucking loves his Vulcan First Officer so much it scares the bejesus out of him. He'd follow Spock into death if he had to, because living life without him? Yeah, he doesn't even want to go there.

He agreed to this whole bonded and marriage business because he likes the man he's become with Spock at his side and he rather likes to think that Spock's become a better man with Jim at his side, too.

They've made each other better. That's that. Now he's going to grin and take Pon Farr like a man.

If he has to give a little control over to Spock in the process, well, there is no one else in this galaxy or beyond he trusts more. Spock would take care of him; he always did.

And if he's trying to force himself to calm his breathing as he walks into the bedroom that houses his horny bondmate, what of it? He's counting on Spock to make him forget how to breathe entirely in less than a minute….

* * *

Jim had barely stepped into the room, hadn't even had time for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, before he felt hot arms surround him and pick him up off the ground.

Before he could voice the indignant, _'hey, I know you want it, I want it, too, but I do know how to walk, you know, human children generally know how to do that by the age of one'_ he was thrown on the bed, on his back, bouncing as he watched Spock slide off his robe and let himself fall over Jim on his hands and knees, the look in his eyes feral.

Jim couldn't help it, he laughed, a hearty chuckle that escaped his throat against his will. The whole scenario was like a really good, really _dramatic_ porn holovid, one of those types that actually had somewhat of a plot to it. If Jim were female and had a bodice to rip, he imagined Spock would be ripping it off him now.

With that imagery in his head, and laughter on his lips, his nervousness left him.

So maybe he was in love, and married, and about to bestow upon his husband his conjugal rights as a Vulcan warrior in heat, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't fucking enjoy it, both this and the promise of the great adventures that were sure to follow.

"Alright you big, Vulcan stud, you, show me what you've got," Jim announced playing his part to a 'T' while flashing a wide grin and thrusting his hips up to meet Spock's in a challenge.

The heat of Spock's naked skin seared even through the cloth of the robe, and Spock growled in response, sending a dizzying spike of excitement up through Jim.

If possible his grin grew wider.

"Like that, did you? I've got more where that came from," Jim announced as he wrapped his arms around Spock's shoulders and pulled himself flush against Spock's chest.

This time it Spock didn't growl, but whimpered, and Jim felt his heart clench at the sound.

It dawned on him then that perhaps fearing this encounter at all had really been a fruitless exercise. It wasn't about gaining control or losing it, it was about giving Spock what he needed because, well, Jim wanted to take care of Spock in turn. Wanted to give him, well, the universe, really, but if Jim's body and mind was what his First needed most, well, Spock could have_ that_ all he wanted.

If he were being completely honest, Jim had been Spock's for the taking since they first glared each other down over the Kobayashi Maru hearing.

Finding a soulmate was fucking scary, frightening beyond any stretch of sanity, really, but also extremely exhilarating. He'd never felt so alive.

Jim looked up at Spock, took in how his body trembled with lust, how black his eyes looked with his pupils dilated, fathomless and deep, saw how Spock used every last bit of willpower at his disposal to prevent himself from ravaging Jim in that very moment, seemingly waiting for something… and Jim couldn't help it, he felt so full, so excited, the words just bubbled out of him.

"I love you."

Jim had never said those words to anybody. Ever. He'd never found anyone they'd mean anything to, but a sudden light blazed in Spock's eyes, and the immense strain in his features softened, and he whispered reverently, gruffly, "as I love you" and the strength in Spock's arms gave out and he landed smoothly on top of Jim, the mattress creaking beneath their combined weight.

Spock was so hot he burned, it felt like Jim was somehow being surrounded by a sun, and the Vulcan was trembling so violently that it made the bed vibrate. Jim kept his gaze firmly on Spock's face as he reached down between their bodies, his fingers dancing, tickling and searching across searing skin until he found Spock's cock, the weight and feel of it against his palm making his own lust swell like a living thing, strong and thriving, wanting more, wanting it all, wanting to _give_ all. Without prompting from Spock he wrapped his fingers around the stiff organ, and started a steady stroking motion.

Spock's breath hitched and the trembling grew more violent. Jim didn't need preparation; he'd taken care of it before, fearing the worst as far as Spock's mindset went, but hoping for the best. Spock had been hard before Jim's hand found him, since probably before Jim entered the room, if he had to guess -- anticipation was the most potent aphrodisiac there was, ever -- and so he fondled Spock only a minute before spreading his legs wider, nudging Spock up a bit and off his body with his hips to better position them for the pounding they both wanted, and navigated the tip of Spock's cock into position to breach him.

A second passed, but felt more like an eternity, as they held each other's gazes, Jim vaguely feeling Spock lift his arm up and around Jim's shoulder to reach for his face, those strong Vulcan fingers lightly feathering his cheek and up his temple until they landed in their proper position.

"My mind to your mind," Jim recited into the silence, knowing the words and beating his lover to them, and then, in a flash of inspiration, adding his own spin on the ancient chant, "my body to your body."

Spock smiled; something rare, and precious, and something Jim felt almost embarrassingly touched to see, before he whispered back "yes" and then made the final motion to penetrate Jim's body and enter his mind, through their meld, simultaneously.

And while Jim admitted he had more experience with sex than could ever be considered gentlemanly --- the hell if he'd ever experienced anything like _this_.

Their bond, this force of energy between him and Spock that Jim could scarcely describe with words, sparked to greater life, like a balloon filling with air. There was light and sensation and warmth and need and passion, and Jim was pretty sure that there had to be some kind of powerful charge that danced across their skin, making every touch electric, every push and pull a jolt to his system, but Spock's ecstasy in his mind, tangled up with Jim's passion, combined with the even stronger emotions: the fierce protection and love that Spock felt for him and that he felt for Spock, all of that jumbled up together was almost more than Jim could take, more than his mere body, frail, human and mortal, could handle.

He felt like the feelings of joy and euphoria inside him were expanding and expanding and expanding until lights, really, _lights_, how absolutely mind boggling was_ that_, danced before his eyes and as Spock tensed tightly above him Jim… came thoroughly undone.

He felt light-headed afterwards, and completely buzzed. The presence of Spock in his mind was even more comforting than the feel and weight of the green-tinted body above his own, breathing laboriously from passionate exertion.

"Spock, if the human half of your DNA causes this Pon Farr thing of yours to happen more often than just every seven years, I _really_ won't mind."

Jim felt, rather than saw, Spock's amusement; their bond pulsated to the rhythm of laughter that the Vulcan could never bring himself to outwardly express.

That he could give Spock that, that he could bring him joy; Jim felt another wave of love wash over him. Such feelings were new, true, but they were also fucking awesome.

"We do not need Pon Farr for it to be like this between us. Once this cycle is over I will be more than happy to prove this to you."

Jim didn't hold his own laughter inside the bond the way Spock did, opting instead to laugh outright, completely delighted and thoroughly smitten.

And if there had ever been any doubts, which there hadn't been really -- well, doubts beyond his own insecurities anyway -- that it was the right choice to give himself to Spock this way, to participate in an event that bound his fate to Spock's for the rest of his life, they were completely obliterated now.

Their partnership would never be dull, Jim knew that with certainty.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

The End!


End file.
